


Anna's Guns

by The_Playground_of_Alcor



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 1 (Critical Role)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 14:56:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17205509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Playground_of_Alcor/pseuds/The_Playground_of_Alcor





	Anna's Guns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aunt_zelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/gifts).



The woman slipped into the tavern quietly, hood drawn up to obscure her features. The few other patrons glanced up at the entrance, but quickly returned to their drinks or conversations, deciding that she didn’t represent any sort of law enforcement. Glancing about the room, she finds her contact sitting at a table near the back exit, and moves over to take the seat next to him.

“And?” She asks plainly, keeping her voice low. “Is it set?”

The contact, a squat human with a face that looked as though it had seen too many impacts with a rock, nodded. “Aye, 2 hours from now, at the Pale Cloud tavern. Look for the red robe, that’s the one you’ll need to talk to.”

She nodded, satisfied. Reaching under her cloak, she pulled out a small pouch and tossed it underneath the table into the mans lap. “A bonus, for your hard work and swift results. _And._ For your silence.”

The man quietly took the pouch, subtly feeling it and judging the coin inside. “Silence about what? I’ve no idea who you are or why you sat down here, and I’d thank you to leave me to my drink, thank you very much.” Despite the words, he gave her an almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging and accepting the terms.

She nodded back, and rose to leave. Her plans in this area were nearly complete, and then she could move on to the next target. As she exited the tavern, she smiled underneath her hood. She knew he would already be decidedly annoyed with her, but when she was done, she suspected that Percival would be downright murderous.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 Hours Later

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She sat in the Pale Cloud, at a small table by the kitchen door, by all appearances lost in her drink. In reality, she was intently watching the inhabitants of the tavern, waiting for the figure in red. By her count, the time was for the meeting was nearly here, so she should see them at any moment.

“Are you Dr. Ripley?” A smooth voice said just in front of her. She very nearly jumped out of her skin as she looked across the table at the figure robed in red now assuming a seat. How had they managed to sneak in so close to her?

“I am.” She replied, far smoother than she felt. “And you would be the Hand’s Master, I presume?”

The figure nodded before pulling their hood back slightly to let some light fall on their face. Ripley was struck for a moment, as she was unable to determine much of the person sitting before her. They seemed to be neither male nor female, nor did they appear to be entirely of any one race, or even half of any. Try as she might, she couldn’t pin down any real details about this one, a rarity for her.

“I am indeed this master you seek. I am given to understand you bear some form of armaments you wish to parlay to us?”

She nodded. “I do. I feel I should be up-front, I do not have the weapons themselves, but I do have the guides to craft them. And I promise, if constructed properly, they can serve to be more powerful than a hundred of your best swordsmen.”

The Master raised an eyebrow, cocking their head to one side curiously. “Indeed. A bold claim. I trust you can back up such a concept.”

Ripley nodded, reaching to draw Animus from her belt holster, and holding it out for examination. “Of course. Consider this as an example of such a weapon. Somewhat modified, I admit, for my own tastes and needs, but the basic form remains. With this, one can take out a half dozen soldiers in perhaps twice as many seconds, assuming a certain skill level. For the price I’ve requested, I will provide the designs needed to construct not only the weapons, but the ammunition required for them. Additionally, I can throw in 2 example weapons; one of them, a more handheld form like my own, and the other, somewhat larger, packing more of a punch.”

The Master nodded in appreciation. “I have heard tales of such weapons, though it was not a woman who wielded them. A man with white hair, and whispers of vengeance. Does this man sound familiar to you, Dr. Ripley?”

Ripley clenched her fist around the hilt of Animus before roughly shoving it back into its holster. She’d wondered if his exploits had made it as far as Marquet. Apparently, they had. “An… Impostor, a pretender. He claims to be the inventor of this weapons, and seeks to hoard the information for himself. I know, however, that the world must know of them, and I hope that you and your people are precisely the best kind to wield them to the best of their ability. Now, have I judged you correctly?”

The Master sat still, eerily so, staring into her, seeming to peer as far into her as any eye could. Finally, they nodded. “Very well. We accept your offer. The funds will be gathered and made ready by morning. We will be in contact with you.” With that, they resettled their hood and rose to leave. Ripley kept her eyes on them, determined to see if they would reverse their little appearing trick. But no, they simply walked out the front door and left.

Ripley took a deep breath, steadying herself. She hadn’t expected such a reaction at the mention of Percival, but there it was. It likely meant something, but it was something that she was disinterested in considering at the time. For now, she allowed herself to revel in sale she’d made, in spreading Percival’s precious invention a little further into the world.


End file.
